Page 67 of Dirty Salvation

You are not club.Why did that hurt?

Humiliation stung behind her eyes. Cheeks heated and her belly filled with anger. Zara kept on walking, down the long passage, past the laundry room and the doorway to the storage, and didn't stop until she'd reached the biggest dorm; Rider's room, her room for the past week. Making sure everyone knew what kind of mood she was in and to stay the hell away from her, she swung the door closed so forceful it slammed hard and swung back open. She huffed, and closed it slower this time before stomping inside. She couldn't even properly convey a bad mood with a good door slam. If that wasn't the story of her life.

TheSoulsclubhouse boasted a lot of rooms, some newly built and extended, it was a very clean building, not what you'd expect from a biker compound, nothing she was used to with Hades, his men lived in a slum, it was the nicest description for it. She'd grown to like it this week, it felt more welcoming than anything else had in a long time, but as she paced around the small room she was feeling closed in once more.

"Dumbass biker man." She muttered. None of the anger dissipating.

If anything, she brought Rider and his slow building rogue smile to mind and wanted topunchhim right in the mouth that had kissed her.

Her back to the door, she heard it creak open not even a minute later. Every muscle tightened, her spine tight knowing instinctively who it was.

He'd followed her.

She refused to speak. She had nothing to say to him. Stubborn jerk on his tall throne and only his words are law.

Long live the Outlaw.

Not a word, she chastised, folding her arms, pretending to take an interest out the window at the moon hung low in the sky.

Zara could feel Rider approach her on silent feet. She was adamant she had nothing to say to the dumbass MC president. But then.

"You can turn right around again and leave me alone, there'snothingyou can say you haven't already rammed down my throat that I want to continue to hear, mister Prez. You have commanded, so do what you do."

"Prez? I was Rider to you ten minutes ago, with your tongue in my mouth." She could hear the smirk in his tone, felt it streak into her belly even when she denied feeling anything for the jackass caveman. "You're being a brat stompin' your foot for shit you don't understand about club business, Icy..." His underlying tone was still fuming.

Well tough shit, she had the big bad biker man beat there.

Wait. What.

Shewas being a-----of all the----- Zara spun around so fast, her eyes narrowed to accusing slits. Rider's face wasn't any better with his own thunderous gaze trained on her as he advanced and kept on coming. Backing her up until she hit the dresser with her spine.

"I'm gonna kill them. That's all you gotta know. I'll bring their heads on a fuckin' platter if you need that conclusion." she supposed he thought he was being chivalrous, instead, his obstinate mind only pissed her off.

"This is supposed to bemyroom, you can't just push your way in. Don't you have homicide to do?" One second she allowed herself to really look at him, to wallow in those rich blue eyes with the thin green filaments, thick brows folded over in concentration, the cut of his jaw and the way thin strands of hair had escaped his bun and hung against his ears. One second that was all, really looking at him when for days she'd barely allowed her eyes to betray past feelings.

Anything more than a second and she'd remember she was angry with him.

She already had a Trader Joe bag full of issues without admitting to the real lust she felt for this man. He'd kissed her. Really kissed her, nothing tentative about Rider, he'd knocked her socks off and she'd liked it. And then ruined it.

He stepped into her space making him larger than life, though her bones tensed up she wasn't afraid. "I barely pushed in, Icy, and this is my room, how many times I gotta tell you. And stop fuckin' flinchin' when I get near, it's startin' to piss me off." He clipped.

The lift of his lips gave him a look of contrite humor as though the MC president wasn't a lethal alpha wolf in his kingdom.

Zara knew differently.

She'd seen him in actionthatnight... a demon coming through the Raging Rebels club with a navy bandana masking the lower half of his face, a stride so powerful she shuddered in memory, like heownedthe place, ripping with violence and blood until there was nothing left, just a little girl broken on the floor. He'd picked her up and carried her out.

Her anti-hero.

Zara's head went back, chin lifted in defiance. Her pulse pattering, she could hear the noise of blood rushing in her ears, her stomach flipping wildly over and over. She sought out his face, passed her eyes across all that handsome and rough maleness. God, why did he have to be so good looking? why was time so good to him? he'd aged and grown so much more. Everything.

He was too close to her, robbing Zara of air. His smile was a frozen, tight thing, thinning out his lips as if sensing her every thought and not liking it one bit. She was close enough to see the bristles of his dark beard, not too long, it curved along his rigid jaw perfectly and the few stray hairs at the fringes of his brows. His long lashes. The man was too beautiful for his own good and from all certainty he was only going to get better with age.

Unless he took to the booze heavily as a recreational hobby he could easily get a beer belly, she mused, but it didn't go much further, much too distracted when his thumb moved on her cheek. Her blush hit a higher level.

His touch was heaven.

And he looked like sex and secrets.

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